#muder

You were walking back. Back home, sweet home.

Dandelions. You walked with dandelions in your hand. They came from the sweetest wee patch, and you knew you just had to bring some for someone sweeter. Your love, Beorn.

He was probably waiting at home, ready to tackle you with a hug like he always did. You giggled just at the thought of him. Then he'll see the flowers, then his face will light up, then- Red and Blue. Red and blue lights flashed. A swarm of police cars were parked in front of your house. The air left your lungs and the air was hot and cold. You were deaf, yet you heard every sound everywhere all at once. Your shallow breathing. The sirens. The pitter patter of footsteps you didn't know were following you scurrying away. The sirens.

Did someone break in? Is Beorn hurt? Is Did Is- thoughts swirled in your head, running like your feet. You finally saw him. But not being comforted by the police. You saw him cuffed, being pushed into a police car.

Your eyes met. Those beady brown eyes you loved were filled with every negative emotion and he yelled for you, struggling against the men in uniform "I'LL BE BACK BUN! DONT WORRY, I'LL BE BACK!"

Serial killer. Your boyfriend's a Serial killer hun. The dandelions dropped to the floor. It was a long time before you could stand the sight of dandelions again.

☆End of Act 1☆

Warnings: Murder, Drug use, Slight mentions of depression

[10 Years Ago]

As two cars pull up along the beach of an emerald lake, a group of conspicuous looking men step out. A gruntled yet muffed shout came from the back of one of their trunk , only to grow louder as they opened.

"Line him up over there", one of the men demanded. Grabbing the bound males body before chucking him onto the rough gravel. A low yelp of pain erupted from the male as the rocks dug into his skin. Coming to his bearings the man gets up into his knees, his blind fold losed from the the fall. His burgundy hued glare was calculated, filled with hatred and wrath towards the unopened car in front of him.

One of the men opened said door, reviling a rather slimming gentleman in white, doaned in gold rings and a chain. He ignored the man's gaze in front of him as he lit a cigarette, breathing in only to let out a wheezy cough. Whether it was years of smoking or the coldness of this winter morning, it didn't matter, his voice carried a raspy undertone as he spoke.

"Mike, Mike, Mike", he repeated, taking a drag once more before he continued." Or should I say Miguel O'Hara, am I correct?". The gentleman finally meets Miguels gaze. Seeking some form of gratification from a surprise reaction, however was challenged by his unwavering cold stare.

The gentleman tisked.

"Miguel O'Hara, by day a renowned geneticist at alchemax, by night you steal their very own rapture and sell it directly to our...'goods and services". The man waffles as he begins to walk round Miguel slowly.

"It was simply a story to follow, so simple Miguel".

"But that was until you decided to change scripts on us and sell those shitting contaminated knockoffs!" He yells, flicking his cig at the tanned males face. The gentleman finally meets back to face Miguel, crouching down to meet at eye level.

"Can't have my clients dropping dead so quickly, really put at dint with my mens numbers too."

" But I like you Migs, I really do. It would be ashamed to get rid of such a valuable young man like yourself. And what if a few people ended up as food for the rats, it's just business" He chuckles.

He placed his hand on Miguel's shoulder as he continued.

"whatever "this" is can easily go away you know. You can go back and keep retelling your same story over and over for us. If you only just tell me where the real drungs are." The man firmly gripped onto Miguel shoulder, nails digging in just enough to give pain through his shirt. Yet Migs cold gaze continues to remain.

"Tell me, cause as lord as my witness I know you still have them. Where's the real rapture".

"Go.To.Hell" Miguel spits with venom.

"Oh believe me I'll be there soon" Then weakly laughs, before coming to a coughing fit. But he manages to recollect himself. " Ah well then, I actually really hope it would come to this". He smiles wickedly.

For the first time, Miguel broke his facid, confusion crossed his face as an uneasiness begins to fester looking at the man before him.

The gentleman snaps his fingers.

"Boys"

A group of men shuffled through the backseat. Emerging out they cradled a small, limped child. From the moment Miguel first saw her body, he lost it.

"Gabi?, Gab!!!" Miguel shouted as he tried to run to her, but he couldn't even get the chance to stand as two men held him down. Frustrated he grunts and curses bursted out as he called out to her. Yet meet with no response. Not even a stir.

"Let's try this again-"

"What did you do to her you bastard !??" Miguel shouted, tossing and kicking his way free proved frivolous. Merely it served to delight the gentleman. A sadistic grin edged his face. Finally he got to see the fear in the young man who betrayed him.

"She's drugged. Simply asleep at the moment. Don't worry Miguel I ain't that heartless for a child to experience these things. I just need her here to make you more compliant."

His henchmen placed the child into their boss's right arm, while his other hand being free, reaches into his pocket.

"You wouldn't want anything to happen to your daughter. Best not to test me Miguel. My hands... Are shaky with age." He says as he grabs a knife to her neck, pressure applied to her skin yet not enough to slice it.

Miguel frivolous struggle came to a hault. Jaw tensed out of needed compliance, gritting his teeth with a mixture of frustration and worry. He needed to be calm and collective, for his daughters sake.

"Good, good". The boss was pleased at Miguel's commitment to restrain himself. He waited for Miguel's response.

"I don't have them." Miguel says plainly.

"Oh?!" The man says in fake shock, as he flicks the knife as a gesture for Miguel to cut the crap.

"Im telling the truth. I gave you your rapture to your lackies as usual. I didn't cheap you out. Why would I? There's no benefit in double crossing you, every crime lord in this city and the next knows that. Look whatever happened between shipments doesn't concern me, I don't have no control over your men." Miguel tries to reason with him. Though rather poorly. He was never a good at controlling the way he phrase things to make it sounded more sweater or the the other persons liking. He does spend most of his days in his private lab after all.

But Miguel was in fact telling the truth. He never would have thought he would end up as a supplier to a well known underground criminal syndicate. But that all changed when his daughter fell ill. Despite his law biding job paying well, it wasn't enough to cover all her medical costs. He was desperate. Rapture leaking into the market too early anyway, becoming a very popular drug; and so he had to do what he though it was right by any means necessary to save her. But what good did that do. He couldn't protect her from his other life. Despite everything, he never knew it would lead to this.

Whoever double crossed him had to know that he was going to quit this side gig. And no one's quites this. Miguel wanted to leave the cesspool of the city once Gabi was getting better. And had to be sneaky about it. Until the time being, he was stuck being someone's drug mule.

He just hoped the boss believed his words.

It didn't.

"Don't you think I've looked into it on my side. Everyone that day had an alibi. Camera checked. All the sorts. But when I'd looked into you, do you know what I got? Nothing. Causes everything you did that day was wiped off every system. No camera, no signs of transaction. Heck it looked like you didn't even go to your job to even get us our goods Miguel."

All Miguel could do was just stare at the boss, he had nothing to say. What could he have said?

The man signed

"Oh I'm sorry Miguel"

"Para, oh Dios, no, no, no!!"

And just like that, time slowed down for Miguel. To witness the absolute horror no father should experience. To be so utterly helpless in protecting his child.

With one swift motion the man sliced her neck, blood spewing along skin, dripping pearls down onto the ground.

"Gabi !" Miguel cried. He tried to, anything, to go to her. He struggled. He tugged against his constraints as well as the men holding him down. But it only lead to gravel being kicked around. She was just out of reach.

"But really this is all your fault". The gentleman drops her limp body without a care. She tumbled over, landing a few meters before her father. Whatever universal grace Miguel got in this situation was that her face was shielded away from his sight. He never got to see her tears.

His body trembled as he slumped down. Not once did he took his eyes off her. His own heart beat drums out the wheezing laughter from her killer.

A million thoughts traveled his head in a matter of seconds. 'He should have never got into this business'. ' Who double crossed him'. 'Why did they have to kill her?' 'Shes innocent'.

'Its all his fault'

'Its his fault'

'Its his fault'

'ITS HIS FAULT'

"Get on with it then" He says in defeat.

"Oh no no Miguel, I won't be so merciful with you." He says as one of his henchmen delivers a brief case.

Opening it he reveals a large injecting gun filled with cloudy green liquid. He flicks the gun, looking at the way the liquid sloshes back and forth, before meeting back to Miguel gaze.

"I think you know what this is." He snarks as he walks up to his defeated form and stabs is arm. Miguel does not retaliate, why should he. He lost the very thing he cherished the most. There's no point in trying to escape when he has no need to live anymore.

Miguel hisses from the jap as the green liquid drains from the syringe into his veins. Almost instantly the effects take affect. Miguels heart rate increases as his breaths get shorter and shorter, as if lungs were clogged. The boss signaled his henchmen to let go of him. There was no need to restrain him, the scorching heat burning throughout his body cause him to curl in pain. An agonizing screams spewed out amongst his gasps. The agony felt like hours but carried out in just minutes.

As his vision was going black, barely, just barely he glaces at his daughter that lays beside him on the gravel.

"Ga-gabi." He whispers.

Whatever little strength he had left he used it to drag his weakening body across the dirt. With each movement the serum flowed through his blood stream faster, burning his insides. But he did not care.

"Lo siento mi hija".

He manages to reach out, shaking fingers ghosts her hand, trying all his might to hold onto hers. But his strength wasn't enough.

He remained holding her hand.

Until his spark finally burned out.

"How touching" The gentleman sneared as he wiped the blood off the knife with a handkerchief before waking back to his car.

"What should be do with the bodies, boss" one of his men questioned.

"Tisk, dump them in the lake for all I care, just make it look like a bloody accident." He waved off.

This was not how the story was supposed to go but I like a bit of a back story for our sad spooky guy. I haven't proof read this so I'll re-edit once I push out a few chapters. The next chapter will be reader centric. If you have any ideas how you want the story to go feel free to suggest it, I like sharing ideas and providing a different view on things.